"Don't say you're Mother Phelps!" cried this young person, delightedly, lifting the older woman almost bodily from the wagon. "But I know you are!" she continued joyously. "Do you know who I am? I'm Manzanita Boone!" Mrs. Phelps felt her heart grow sick within her. She had thought herself steeled for any shock,--but not this! Stricken dumb for a moment, she was led indoors, and found herself listening to a stream of gay chatter, and relieved of hat and gloves, and answering questions briefly and coldly, while all the time an agonized undercurrent of protest filled her heart: "He cannot--he SHALL NOT marry her!" Austin was up at the mine, of course, but Miss Boone despatched a messenger for him in all haste. The messenger was instructed to say merely that Manzanita had something she wanted to show him, but the simple little ruse failed. Austin guessed what the something was, and before he had fairly dismounted from his wheeling buckskin, his mother heard his eager voice: "Mater! Where are you! Where's my mother?" He came rushing into the ranch-house, and caught her in his arms, laughing and eager, half wild with the joy of seeing his mother and his girl in each other's company, and too radiant to suspect that his mother's happiness was not as great as his own. "You got my letter about our engagement, mater? Of course,--and you came right on to meet my girl yourself, didn't you? Good little mater, that was perfectly great of you! This is just about the best thing that ever--and isn't she sweet--do you blame me?" He had his arm about Manzanita, their eyes were together, his tender and proud, the girl's laughing and shy,--they did not see Mrs. Phelps's expression. "And what did you think?" Austin rushed on, "Were you surprised? Did you tell Cornelia? That's good. Did you tell every one--have the home papers had it? You know, mother," Austin dropped his voice confidentially, "I wasn't sure you'd be awfully glad,--just at first, you know. I knew you would be the minute you saw Manz'ita; but I was afraid--But now, it's all right,--and it's just great!" "But I thought Yerba Buena was quite a little village, dear," said Mrs. Phelps, accusingly. "What's the difference?" said Austin, cheerfully, much concerned because Manzanita was silently implying that he should remove his arm from her waist. "Why, I thought I could stay at a hotel, or at least a boarding-house--" began his mother. Miss Boone laughed out. She was a noisy young creature. "We'll 'phone the Waldorf-Astoria," said she. "Seriously, Austin--" said Mrs. Phelps, looking annoyed. "Seriously, mater," he met her distress comfortably, "you'll stay here at the ranch-house. I live here, you know. Manz'ita'll love to have you, and you'll get the best meals you ever had since you were born! This was certainly a corking thing for you to do, mother!" he broke off joyfully. "And you're looking awfully well!"